An epiphany struck Hugh: he knew Lillias. In just a few scant weeks he’d come to know her inflections and the angles of her head and the way her face colored, the way she held herself. He knew when she was proud or angry or curious or vulnerable or bored or full of herself.
So he knew she was lying.
She was not in theleastlooking forward to meeting this Harriette.
More and more curious.
And less and less pleasant.
And that’s when he noticed that her fingers, tightly clutching her little reticule and fan, were trembling.
“Lady Harriette has unfortunately been detained on her journey here. I’m given to understand a carriage horse threw a shoe and a blacksmith cannot be found for a day or so. She looked forward to the ball and to meeting you, as well. Her absence means I have a waltz going begging on my dance card.”
Lillias was white and wordless. And then a breath shuddered out, as though what she’d just asked had taken all of her courage.
Enough was enough.
“I think Lillias could use some air,” Hugh said firmly. “If you will be so kind as to excuse us? Delighted to meet you, Lord Bankham. I’m certain we’ll become great friends.”
Hugh favored Lord Bankham with a smile of such startling, irresistible warmth and bonhomie that the man’s face split into a smile as of its own accord, while his eyes looked astonished over the behavior of his mouth.
He took Lillias by the elbow and walked her, gently but implacably, toward a set of doors, wide, inset with small panes—leading to the garden, and pushed the door open, onto a veranda. He said not a word.
Chapter Sixteen
She pulled away and strode swiftly ahead of him along a path of flagstones, lit up by the high, bright moon.
And then she stopped, suddenly. Whatever emotion had driven her had been spent.
Hugh saw deeper into the garden the paler outlines of stone benches, and what appeared to be a little spire of a gazebo.
“This way,” he said quietly. “Go left.”
His voice was taut. He didn’t touch her. She followed him, resignedly.
The gazebo was tucked in amid shrubbery that needed a good trimming. It was lined with stone benches, and moonlight poured down through its latticed roof.
He stopped. He gestured at one of the benches.
“Sit down, Lillias.”
“Masterful,” she said, faintly, sardonically. But she sank down onto the bench as though whoever held her strings had cut them.
He lowered himself down next to her, a genteel distance apart.
They sat in silence, staring straight ahead. He wondered how to begin.
“I’ve eyes, you know,” he said finally, carefully.
“I’ve seen them,” she said shortly. “There they are, right above your nose.”
He contemplated whether he ought to be delicate, but he was no coward. Life was short. To know what sort of life he could expect from this day on, he needed to be blunt.
“How long have you been in love with Bankham?”
Her head whipped toward him.
Her head pivoted back again and she stared stonily into the dark.